Mountains’ Spindrift Mohawks

A few weeks ago we lost most internet and cell phone coverage in the County for half a day. The Gas Station attendant I interviewed suspected it was the Chinese hacking our systems again. The news paper the next day alleged it was a construction crew out on Swan Mountain who cut the fiber optic lines. I brought this information back to the Attendant, who replied, “it’s what they’d like you to think, idnit’?”

A few days ago “blizzard conditions” threw a melee in our midst. The whole place went Punk Rock Riot Mad. The trees whipped about in a frenzy, hurtling branches and cones. Above their heads the mountains roared as Spindrift soared and swirled off the peaks, like raging Mohawks against clouds back lit by the Full Moon. It was a mighty reminder of what business Winter is about.

Again our power was cut, only momentarily. However, the magic internet box in our house did not revive. Being an addictive personality, I welcome the removal of temptation. On the other hand, I am sitting in the Public Library telling you about it; so I can’t pretend to be “cured” by any means.

With my evenings at home suddenly open, I create entertainment and keep a much earlier bed time. One of the greatest gifts my father ever gave me were stories. Bedtime stories, make-believes, imagination, books. As I continue to grow, I find there are even more stories, everywhere. As an adolescent I sometimes became overwhelmed by the volume of individuality present on a certain length of highway, or filling an airline cabin. Today I have learned to filter, but still and always try to listen.

As such, I am excited to begin work as a Market Research Surveyor at Breckenridge Mountain tomorrow. Under the employ of the local economic giant, Vail Resorts, I will be out on the mountain gathering data from our guests. “Where ya from?” “Whadya’ like?” type stuff.

Today I meandered the baffling, bustling complex that is the town of Breckenridge in search of ski pass and uniform. It was befuddling and temporarily frustrating and, for the timeth untold, I wondered how my life would be altered by one of those ‘Does Everything Devices.’ But I found my way and met a lot of new folk and other departments in the process.

At the moment they handed over my ski pass my first priority became hitting the slopes. I hopped the gondola and got lost in the ghost town of Peak 7. The chairlift was closed and the restaurants music echoed eerily through the sullen plaza. I think I walked about about a mile in my ski boots before finally giving up and getting back on the gondola; which at it’s next stop, deposited me exactly where I had meant to be.

I dressed Bo-Hickey for my first day on the slopes, as my opening skills are better fitted to a Cotton and Carhartt bedecked skier. Proudly boasting Huncle Dan’s Champion Vest from the 80s, I teetered and weaved and relearned footing. A million unused tiny muscles twitched and bitched. By the third run I was focused on maintaining form and learning the edges of my new K2 Lotta Love Skis.

Helly Hansen happily slapped their brand-name across the butt of my 4 piece uniform set. It seems to be good gear. I am firmly of the opinion that pit zips are the best thing to happen to jackets in recent years. Today, I found myself most pleased with the crotch zips in our uniform pants; the uniform fellow politely referred to them as ‘vents.’ After that I picked up a helmet with my staff voucher and left town, thoroughly prepared for the season to begin.

For right now though, I am thinking about checking out one of these books and curling up in front of the fire.

May Winter treat us Well.

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